


A Fish May Marry a Bird

by Lookfar



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Warning for possible bestiality, if you interpret it that way.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-16
Updated: 2010-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:12:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lookfar/pseuds/Lookfar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Snape loathes the idea of a centaur in the castle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fish May Marry a Bird

Many thanks to Haldane, for reading and picking, and to Delphi, who beat and kicked this so thoroughly -- despite finding a previously unknown area of squickedness -- that I took all her suggestions and improved it by 38%.

This story has been illustrated by Fanlay. You can find her illlustrations at her LIve Journal.

 

A fish may marry a bird, but where would they live?   
\-- Old Yiddish Proverb

Severus shifted in the chair and drummed his fingers silently on the table. Under the rule of Dolores Umbridge, the staff meeting had grown to a two-hour review of Byzantine new regulations, and the sitting was hard on his skinny arse.

Albus tended to keep his remarks short, to compensate. "I am happy to announce that we have found an excellent candidate for the Divination position," he said. There was an uncomfortable silence as the professors around the table recalled the sacking of Sybil Trelawney. Professor Sprout shot a venomous glance at Umbridge.

"As you all know," he continued, "centaurs have long concerned themselves with the prognosticatory arts, and it will be our good fortune to have one of them share his knowledge with the students of Hogwarts. Firenze has agreed to take the position and will join our staff at the end of next week."

Severus stifled a gasp. Of all the naive schemes Albus had come up with, this must be the most wrongheaded. A great, dirty animal wandering the corridors! Albus ignored his outraged stare. He slapped his hands on the table and stood, incidentally easing his sore bottom. "This is unacceptable. What are his qualifications?" he hissed.

"I assure you," Albus said mildly, "in several interviews, Firenze satisfied me that he has extensive knowledge of an arcane branch of Divination as well as the capacity to convey it clearly to the young mind. I believe we will all benefit from having him here, and I am quite excited by the prospect."

With difficulty, Severus lowered his voice.

"Who will clean up the manure?" he growled.

Albus shook his white head admonishingly.

"Now, Severus," he said, "do give the fellow a chance."

~oo00oo~

Before entering the Great Hall for Monday breakfast, Severus checked the room for a large, filthy beast. He doubted he could eat his eggs and drink his tea in the vicinity of such a thing. It had been difficult enough with Hagrid nearby. There was no centaur, however, so he commenced his progress to the staff table.

"...starting with the new Divination professor on Wednesday," said a chirpy, girl's voice nearby. Severus paused to eavesdrop. "And he's a centaur, a beautiful centaur from the Forbidden Forest, except that he's really nice, I heard."

Severus gave the girl a look of disgust, which shut her up immediately. Her little friends, as well, suddenly took a silent interest in their plates.

He continued his surveillance for the rest of the week. He did not wish to be surprised at meals by a smelly animal, or, God forbid, in the staff restroom. When no centaur was seen, he began to relax. Maybe it would keep to its lair.

When Severus arrived at staff meeting on Friday, however, the centaur was already there, standing quite still and majestic in Severus' own place at the table. Introductions had apparently just concluded, for Albus was saying something with the words "welcome" and " feel at home" in it. Severus wondered how it had gained the room, as it was clearly too big for the entrance. Meanwhile, he glared meaningfully at it while standing in the door.

"Excuse me, Professor Snape," said the centaur. "I see I have taken your seat."

It stepped gracefully sideways -- clop, clop, clop, clop -- and turned to retrieve Severus' chair, offering him a good view of rippling, muscled torso. Professor Umbridge averted her eyes. Severus was forced to take his usual spot next to Professor Flitwick, but with a towering wall of horseflesh instead of the familiar, calming window on his other side.

He expected to be assailed by stable odors, but a few cautious whiffs, being careful not to distend the nostrils, brought him a pleasant fragrance of leaf mould, spring rain and, very faintly, adult man. He leaned back and rested against the chair.

Out of the corner of his eye, Severus examined him, keeping his feet tucked away from the sharp hooves. He did not fidget but seemed to be attending with his whole being to the events around him. Severus could not see any responses, not even those strictly repressed, a sore spot of his own. It was, ever so slightly, intriguing.

The centaur spoke only once.

"Professor Umbridge," he asked. "What is the purpose of this Ministry Injunction?"

Professor Umbridge dragged her eyes up to his face and answered in the sweet, patient voice of a play school teacher.

"I believe I made this clear in my earlier discussion of the injunction, Professor – hem -- Professor. The injunction is intended to protect these impressionable students from inadvertently exposing themselves to influences whose goals are not concordant with the higher aspirations of Wizarding society. Dissidents, if you will." She nodded as if receiving agreement, and the chenille bow on her head rocked in time.

The centaur gazed at her. From below, it was hard for Severus to see his face, but that same stillness prevailed.

"Hem," said Professor Umbridge. "I am glad to be of service in clarifying these matters. I will return the meeting to Professor Dumbledore." She gave the headmaster an officious nod.

Dumbledore rested his eyes on Firenze, who continued, in turn, to observe Professor Umbridge without comment. Another long moment passed, while Professor Umbridge adjusted her wide bottom in her chair and picked some invisible lint off her cardigan, then -- "Hem. Hem. HEM!" -- she nodded more forcefully at Professor Dumbledore, who turned his attention to her.

"Ah. Yes, thank you, Dolores," he said slowly. "I think we've covered all the pertinent matters for now. Pomona, you won't forget to make an accounting of the broken panes in the greenhouse, will you? If that is all," and he swept the table with his genial smile, "I invite everyone to sherry in the staff room to celebrate the end of the week and welcome our new colleague."

He never went to sherry in the staff room, but he was curious as to how the beast had managed to get into the room, so while the others gathered up their things and headed into the corridor, he busied himself with a few papers.

As he had suspected, Dumbledore must have cast him a permanent Premo charm. The centaur stayed back until the last, then squeezed through the door as if made of putty, enlarging on the other side. Severus had seen an octopus do this same trick at a Muggle aquarium. The last aspect of Firenze to leave the room was a pair of magnificent, shivering palomino buttocks surmounted by a glossy cream-colored tail. Severus felt a shock of arousal at the sight, then a shock of shock; it was perverted. Or at least, perverted beyond the level of perversion to which he had grown accustomed in himself.

Well, it wouldn't do to dwell on depths better not explored. He put the moment firmly out of his mind, and, the way being clear, headed off to his dungeon for a well-deserved Friday evening firewhisky.

~oo00oo~

Albus really could have crafted a better silencing spell, Severus thought. It was like huddling under a wool blanket. Nor did they need to meet at midnight in an unused corridor, but Albus seemed to enjoy playing at cloak-and-dagger. The hem of Severus' robes stirred the heavy dust of this particular hall and made him sneeze.

"Severus, my dear, you haven't been looking well," Albus said.

"Of course I am not looking well. I am hideously frustrated by incapable students. Do you know that last week over half my class could not repeat a simple memory-enhancing potion, from written instructions, which they had made the month before? "

"Perhaps your instructional methods -- ?" queried Albus.

"Perhaps it is a result of inbreeding," he snapped.

Albus nodded patiently. They had had this discussion many times, and still he must ask after Severus' health and express concern. As if he could be of any help.

"I don't need to tell you what it does to the endocrine system, going between boredom and terror on a regular basis, do I? So I might look a little drained," Severus said.

The dry, old hand patted his arm. Severus pulled away in irritation.

"We do appreciate your work very much, my boy. Very much. Perhaps a teaching assistant -- "

"No!" Severus barked. "Absolutely not. I don't need an additional dunderhead in my classroom. Make me a proposal when you can increase the intelligence of my students."

They walked to the end of the corridor. The window there gave out onto the lake. There was no moon and the stars danced like cold crystals on the black water.

"I'm afraid I must ask you for a small favor," said Albus. Severus grunted. "Would you be so kind as to spend some time with Firenze? We now have a chance to see what assistance the centaurs could offer. He might have valuable insights into forming an alliance."

"No."

"Really, my boy, it is an invaluable opportunity to enrich your practice. As far as I know, there isn't a single paper on the use of Astronomy to enhance Legilimency."

"That is because Astronomy cannot enhance Legilimency. And I left my saddle at home."

"Severus --"

"They live outdoors, Albus. They eat frogs and snails. They don't wash, and as far as I know, they can't read. It's disgus --"

"Severus, this is an opportunity to learn more about the herd than we have ever done. There may be help for our cause there. We cannot afford to ignore a single avenue."

There it was, "help for our cause," the other summons that he could never ignore. He had assisted the Dark Lord's rise and he must, he must give all to bring him down.

"Fine," he barked. I'll see him." He threw off the silencing spell and stalked away. He expected to be up half the night with the pain in his stomach.

~oo00oo~

Severus' natural aversion to the business caused him to put it off for several days, until having it hanging over him was worse than getting through it. On a Wednesday afternoon, at the hour he usually kept free for marking essays, he changed into his heaviest robes and thick boots.

Although his comment about manure had been intended to offend, it was not far off the mark. The thought of a sentient being living in the rough, without hot running water or toilet facilities, revolted him. He was hoping he might have a brief, functional conversation with the centaur, standing at a good distance, satisfy Albus and get home in time to shower and change for dinner.

His stomach ached as he pushed open the classroom door. Stepping onto the soft pine needles, he had to admire Dumbledore's excellent spell work. This replica of the Forbidden Forest had none of the tatty, stage-set quality of sloppy environmental Transfiguration, but was absolutely real, like Rowena Ravenclaw's ceiling in the Great Hall. Severus took a deep breath of the moist, earth-scented air. The sun, setting low between the trees, blinded him for a moment.

Then Firenze was before him in a dazzling corona, and if the massive body hadn't been so still, Severus would have felt intimidated. It was  
hard to be dignified, gawking up like this.

"Hello, Professor Snape," said Firenze. "I am glad to see you."

"I am here at Professor Dumbledore's request." That should be off-putting enough.

"Please, sit down," said Firenze, leading Severus away from the door, which quickly vanished, and farther into a clearing. A wide, polished stump on a hummock provided a raised seat, to which Firenze gestured.

"Let me bring you refreshment," he said, turning away into the trees before Severus could demur. The view of gleaming nates was riveting, and Severus could not help considering what it would be like to have his swollen privates brushed by that swishing tail. He distracted himself by worrying about what sort of refreshment might be presented. Acorns? Juniper berries, or beetles? Centaur were omnivorous and ate only raw food. He wished he could remember more. Since he would have to wait, he sat.

Firenze returned, smiling gently, with a wooden cup and a sort of bannock on a clean leaf. The cup was filled with spring water, delicious and cold, and Severus drank thirstily.

A few feet from his hummock was a depression in the earth, where Firenze lowered himself to his knees and hocks, bringing their faces to the same height. This natural courtesy in a wild creature was surprising, while the proximity of a half-naked, muscular man, or was it half-a-man, naked and muscular alarmed him. He scowled.

"You weren't worried that I'd bring you acorns, I hope?" A twinkle in the blue eyes told Severus he was being teased. "I taught myself to cook a bit," the centaur continued, "because I do not reject all things human, like my fellows. This kind of bread is made on a hot stone after a fire."

Severus bit into it. It was heavy but pleasant, tasting of nuts and smoke and honey. Firenze smiled more fully, revealing a beautiful set of white teeth. Severus kept his lips closed and studied his companion surreptitiously.

Firenze had the physique of one who lived by physical effort, with broad shoulders and muscular arms from constant practice with a bow. A light dusting of curly hair surrounded his small, dark nipples. He regarded Severus with that same deep calm he had shown in the staff meeting. Severus took a slow breath and another bite of bread. After some time, Firenze spoke.

"You did not come here to eat my bread," he said, "although I hope you will come back for it. What can I do to help you?"

Severus cleared his throat and frowned.

"Professor Dumbledore is under the impression -- mistaken, I am sure -- that the centaurs may take some interest in the return of He Who Must Not Be Named, or that we might find, in discussion with you, something useful in our struggle against him."

"I see. And what about this Umbridge? She must be kept from uncovering the insurgency for as long as possible," said Firenze.

"Yes," said Severus. "But how -- ?"

""Not the stars," said Firenze. "They do not concern themselves with such small matters. Harry Potter's friends are bubbling with purpose and determination. What else could it be?"

Severus nodded.

"As for Umbridge, I see that she loves power and respects only those with power over her. Evil people attract the loyalty of these creatures, and if the Minister is such, I worry that Voldemort may be at the center."

"Is there any way the centaurs can be brought to see their interests?" he asked.

Firenze dropped his eyes. "Not by me," he said. "I am banned from the herd. They will never listen to me." He smiled sadly at Severus. "My race has a long view, as you know, and sometimes it makes us shortsighted. I fear what will happen to the centaurs if the Dark Lord comes fully into power."

"Could they be of use, then, without their consent?" It was a daring question; he did not know how Firenze might view deceptive means toward a noble end, or the degree of his loyalty to the herd.

"Only through their pride," said Firenze. "When offended, they can be decisive and brutal. But how could that come about? Voldemort's forces no longer have business in the Forbidden Forest, and the centaurs will not seek contact."

Severus winced at the name, but filed the idea away. The merest mention, in the right ear, might yield a result in time of need, and that little swot Granger would not miss it.

They lingered, talking, as evening fell in the classroom forest. The stump was surprisingly comfortable and the company handsome and intelligent. His stomach had settled and he felt better than he had in some days.

Severus was careful not to give information, but Firenze had grasped almost everything intuitively. He ate the whole of his bannock and two more cups of water. When the subject of the coming conflict was exhausted, night had fallen. Severus stood and used an opening charm on the classroom door, which cast a stripe of light to guide him.

The soft percussion of Firenze's hooves on the forest floor startled him briefly as they walked. He had forgotten the four legs.

As they stood in the doorway, Firenze touched him softly on the shoulder. Severus found this strangely tolerable, perhaps because the centaur's blue eyes were so grave and kind.

"I hope you will return," he said. "I can do very little to help the human cause here. Perhaps the best I can do is to offer you rest. Your work is the hardest and least rewarding."

'Rest me like a horse after the plow?' he thought, but he did not say it. Instead, he gave a nod and turned away.

Back in his rooms, Severus pulled off his boots. They were clean. He hung up his robes, thinking of Firenze's words, "Perhaps I can offer you rest." What could that be about? What could the centaur possibly want from him? Well, he wouldn't go back.

He made his report to Albus meager and disappointing.

"He is an interesting fellow, is he not?" probed Albus. "So steady. I find him rather calming."

"For a horse," said Severus, and changed the subject.

At the Friday staff meeting, he chose another seat, between Pomona and Pomfrey. Naturally, he would want to move to the less-crowded side of the table. Nor did he make eye-contact with the centaur, but stared at the table top and waited for the meeting to begin.

He was now sitting across from Firenze, and for some reason it was harder to ignore that he was a very attractive man, at least from the waist up. The nakedness was also hard to ignore. From the waist down, he was a horse, but during a particularly tedious stretch of the meeting, he noticed that Firenze was a damned attractive horse, at that. He left the meeting ahead of everyone else and went swiftly to his chambers for his Friday afternoon firewhisky.

Severus was looking forward to his usual Friday programme -- a firewhisky, a shower with a nice, relaxing wank, fresh clothes and the required appearance at dinner. That business with the centaur had been a bit unnerving, though, and the first firewhisky did not quite do the trick. He poured another and drank it down. Ahh, that was it. During the third, his equilibrium returned.

While he filled his glass for the fourth time, his eye fell on a high shelf of art books in his sitting room. Some of them, really, were pornography -- photographs of young men in states of undress -- while a few were nice Muggle collections of plates he had picked up at the stalls in London. He took down Boys on the Strand; if he was going to have four drinks, it might be safer to pull himself off from a sitting position.

He hadn't looked at this in a long time. These were exactly the kind of men he preferred: toned but not bulky, natural, engaged in outdoor activities. This particular photograph -- two young, blond men, their buttocks tense with effort, pushing a boat toward the waves -- would do the trick. He took a sip, balanced the book on his knee, and unbuttoned his trousers. The men strained, their feet slipping on the sand. He had the feeling that this would be an especially nice one.

He turned the page. An athletic fellow was practicing archery, turned to the side, his erection mimicking the arrow nocked in his bow.

The first stroke was so good that Severus' eyes closed involuntarily and he gasped. This could turn out to be, possibly, the best wank of the 1995-96 Academic Year. He was going to have trouble holding back. He removed his hand reluctantly and downed the rest of the whiskey, then went back to the book, where the young man pulled his bow tauter, causing his impressive cock to bob enticingly. Severus gave a little moan, just to himself, and allowed himself two more strokes. His balls were already tightening.

Turn the page. This young man was assisting his friend with some farm work. Both wore high, leather boots but nothing else, and as they forked the hay into the loft, they gave him a good look at muscled backs, tight arses and large, thick cocks. He rolled his thumb over the tip, bringing forth a dribble of clear liquid. Another restrained stroke. He was so hard it hurt.

He was also, by now, fairly drunk. Leaving Boys in the Strand in his lap, he accio'd another book off the shelf, The Sculptures of Leonardo da Vinci. There was a particular page, in the middle -- yes, there it was, Leonardo's magnificent horse, with his muscular leg lifted, strong tail frisking the air, and that gigantic horse-cock beneath his belly. His own organ throbbed in response. He stared, imagining taking that in his mouth -- God! He had to -- couldn't stop -- faster -- a barrage of frantic, hard pulls -- then he arched off the chair with a shout, racked by shock after shock of pleasure as his cock jetted forth a fountain of white.

He found himself a few minutes later kneeling on the carpet, cock still in hand, breath slowing, spattered with pearly liquid. So, unfortunately, was The Sculptures of Leonardo da Vinci.

Where was the damn wand? Awkwardly holding the book open, he groped around on the floor. It had rolled under the club chair. While retrieving it, he hit his head on the occasional table. Too drunk for dinner, that was certain. He performed a cleaning spell and was relieved to see that none of the plates in either book was damaged. Best to close them carefully and leave them on the floor. What about his head. He'd have a goose-egg on his temple, for sure. He accio'd a wet flannel from the bath. Ice would be best, but he couldn't stand to see a house-elf at the moment. In fact, boneless and drunk, he felt it better not to stand at all. He crawled into the bedroom, levered himself on to the bed and passed out.

~oo00oo~

Saturday morning arrived like a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. Why did he feel so terrible? He fumbled his wand off the bedside table and accio'd a vial of hangover remedy, Pilus Canis, from the bathroom cabinet. Good thing he'd kept the supply up. He waited a while with a pillow over his face, then had another vial.

The second enabled him to sit up and get off the bed. He stumbled into the sitting room and snapped his fingers for a house-elf. A modest breakfast would help, if he could keep it down. The little monster appeared with a pop that felt like a hammer blow to the head.

"Eggs, scrambled. Dry toast. Tomato juice. Immediately," he ground out.

"Bitsy is glad to be finding scrambled eggs and dry toast for Master Severus," the elf said cheerfully. If he had been able, he would have kicked her, but he could only gasp, "Go." The side of his head was killing him. He reached up and found a lump. Brain tumor? No, he'd hit it on something. Then he remembered.

There was The Sculpture of Leonardo da Vinci, on top of Boys in the Strand. He hadn't really -- oh, but he had. And it had been the best wank, probably, of the decade.

Severus had nothing to do but think, since it hurt to move. He considered himself a realist. When he had realized, after leaving school, that he was not going to start liking other girls the way he had liked Lily, it hadn't taken him long to accommodate and make the best of it. It helped that he didn't consider homosexuality a choice of affections as much as appetites. He didn't want a lover. He didn't want anyone wearing shoes on his carpet, breaking the tips off his quills or leaving a ring in his tub. He managed his sexual life neatly, and it suited him.

Now he would have to adjust his ideas once again, for it seemed that there was a bit of bestiality in the mix. He supposed Firenze might be offended by that way of putting it.

He considered this, with his head resting on the back of the couch and his eyes closed. He remembered a trip, one of the few times he had seen his Prince grandparents. He had been old enough to be put on the train alone and old enough to know not to ask his mother to come. There had been some hidden agenda there, probably money.

It had seemed that they lived way out in the country, although he had probably traveled thirty miles. On the platform, he had been afraid to look up, for fear of not recognizing his grandfather. But the old man had come, taciturn and bent, and greeted him with a word.

"Severus." He had nodded and picked up his tattered satchel with the worn pyjamas and extra shirt inside.

The grandfather didn't speak again as they went around the corner of the station building and Apparated to the little holding where he lived with the grandmother.

They hadn't been talkative, but the grandmother had urged him to eat bowl after bowl of rich soup, laden with chicken and dumplings and carrots. The grandfather had given him a tiny room, barely wide enough for a bed, behind the old fashioned brick fireplace in the kitchen. Lying there in the warm dark he had felt something unaccustomed: peace. No one was fighting, no one was sad. There was no danger.

The next day he had silently done chores with the grandfather, just chickens and milking the one cow, and then they had walked down the lane with a bucket of milk for a neighbor. Off in a field to the side were some horses, a dapple grey and a brown one. He didn't know anything about horses. As they passed, a handsome tan one came galloping up. He was excited and chased the grey horse around, nipping her.

"That'll be Smithson's," said the grandfather. "He's got over the fence."

She had kept out of his reach but circled back each time. Then, as Severus had watched, the tan horse mounted the grey, biting at her neck with his huge teeth. His forelegs held her. She rolled her eyes and whinnied, but held still for him. Severus knew what this was, because he had seen dogs do it.

The huge cock stabbed at her, the tan horse's feet tripping lightly as his flanks worked. Then he was in, and she whinnied again. Four thrusts and it was over; the tan let her go and walked away, the grey went back to cropping grass.

Severus had suddenly realized that he was standing in the lane, staring, and blushed deeply. He had tried to say something casual to cover his embarrassment, but his lips wouldn't work. The grandfather chuckled and squeezed his shoulder.

"Hard for a man to look away, i'n't it?" he said, and continued on with his bucket, leaving Severus to follow.

What was the mating behavior of centaurs, anyway? As the headache receded, he actually felt a bit excited about it. Purely as an academic question, of course.

~oo00oo~

His second visit to Firenze's classroom was done in quite a different spirit from the first. As he approached the door on Saturday night, a group of first year girls were just leaving, twittering "Good-bye, Professor Firenze! Thank you! Good-bye!" He stood still until they had nearly run into him, then glared fiercely. Suddenly hushed, they fled like a flock of sparrows.

Severus only wanted to get close to his fantasy. A few times in his adult life he had been excited by some actual person in his circle, and he had found that a good, solid understanding that he was no one's fantasy himself kept him from being ridiculous. He could count the number of reciprocal partners he had had on one hand, but he had become skilled at fueling his private imaginings. And he had, after all, been invited to come and rest. A pleasant conversation, a cup of cold spring water and the closeness of so much tantalizing, masculine flesh would put him in a state that he could address later, to his great enjoyment, in his chambers.

He opened the door a crack and peered in. Firenze was standing in the silver moonlight about twenty feet away, braiding his hair with his hands behind his neck, a position that showed his broad chest and slim waist to such advantage that Severus would have been glad just to stand in the doorway, his cock stirring in his pants.

Firenze finished, tied the end of his plait with a thong, then looked up.

"Professor Snape! I am glad to see you."

"I see you've had visitors," said Severus, sounding surlier than he meant to.

Firenze smiled. "The Pony Club. It takes very little to make those girls happy."

"Does it," said Severus.

"But come and sit down," said Firenze, advancing toward him. The sound of hoof beats was actually rather sexy. Firenze touched him on the shoulder and gestured toward the clearing. Severus sat on the stump again. This time he watched Firenze intently as he fetched a drink of water. The grace and strength of his legs was thrilling.

"Will you tell me how you came to Hogwarts?" asked Firenze, settling into his hollow in the ground. "Only what you wish, of course."

"Bad choices," he said. "Then this was my best option."

The centaur nodded thoughtfully.

"You were lucky, then, to be able to change course."

"Lucky." Severus snorted. "I haven't considered myself lucky."

"And your life now?" Firenze asked.

"Despicable," Severus answered.

"But there is something that gives it meaning," Firenze said. Severus was startled to have come to the heart of things so quickly. He did not answer for some time. Then --

"I suppose there is," he said. "Reparation."

"And toward yourself, also?" Firenze asked.

Severus shook his head.

"Not possible," he answered.

They had been talking for two hours or more when Severus shivered. He discreetly tucked his hands inside his sleeves and pulled his robes closer.

"You are cold," Firenze said. "I have been a poor host."

"No, I'm quite --" Severus begin, but Firenze was already rising, an imposing sight as the legs unfolded, first the front, then the back, and he came to his full height. Severus was unclear what he intended. If this were Minerva, she would hand him a tartan lap robe, but he was fairly sure there was nothing like that available.

"It is comfortable in my hollow," he said, taking Severus' hands in his. "Come back here."

Firenze's hands were wonderfully warm and large, enclosing both of Severus's cold, thin ones as he drew him forward. The depression where he had been lying was lined with flattened leaves and pine needles, and as he came close, Severus felt the heat, Firenze's own body heat absorbed by the ground, radiating back at him. Firenze did not let go entirely, but settled himself while holding one hand, then gently tugged Severus down next to him.

"Lean against my side," said Firenze, arranging Severus's arm over his wide, horse's back. "That will warm you."

It was like a hot bath after a cold night's watch. Severus immediately began to relax and a sigh escaped his lips. He draped himself more closely over the solid, furred back. That pleasant smell of man and humus and clean rain was all around him. He would have felt sleepy if not for the discomfort of a difficult-to-adjust erection.

"Is that better?" asked Firenze.

"Yes," he said. "Thank you." He was unaccustomed to speaking to people while touching them. They sat in silence for a time, Severus feeling Firenze's small movements as he arranged himself. He laid his head down on the centaur's back.

Firenze spoke softly against the rustling and calling of the night forest.

"It is difficult to be the only one, set apart."

At first he thought he might be talking about Severus' own situation, and readied a sarcastic reply. Then he went on.

"With the herd, I was one of the group. We were all the same, and each different. Two identities. Now, at the school, I am the only one of my kind. The people are good to me, but I must explain myself over and over, and it is lonely."

Severus was also unaccustomed to receiving confidences. The best he could do was nod, rubbing his cheek against Firenze's skin, and leave it at that. Then the silence returned, and each was with his own thoughts.

Severus's eyes were closed when Firenze gave a yawn and stretched. The centaur's hand dropped lightly onto his hair, where he twined the locks around his fingers and rubbed the scalp. He pulled gently and smoothed it down. The feeling was exquisite, both soothing and highly exciting. If his cock didn't get some attention it might burst, but he didn't move, lest the caresses stop.

And then it was morning, with the birds and the clear early light and Severus satisfied his curiosity about how centaurs slept: with their forearms on a log, snoring softly. Severus was curled up by Firenze's side, warm as toast, his head pillowed on a leg.

Two things needed to be addressed immediately, and they both involved his prick.

"Be right back," he rasped, and stumbled up into the clearing and through the trees. It was the customary morning hard-on, but with oh, so much more urgency. He badly needed to empty his bladder, but there'd be none of that until he brought this devil down.

He figured he'd gone far enough when he couldn't see the clearing. He picked a sturdy oak with clean bark to lean on and unbuttoned his trousers. Was this the very same erection he'd gone to sleep with? It felt like it. His bladder was killing him. Meanwhile, the sweet birdsong mocked his fumbling efforts to get some relief. His cock felt hugely sensitive in the chill morning air, and he barely registered that this was the first time he'd wanked outside and soon to be his first outdoor piss. At any moment now he'd be eating beetles and grass.

It was a bit difficult starting up -- he'd really rather piss -- but once his prick figured out the order of business, the feeling was intense. A dozen strokes, and he came so hard he had to smother his groan against the oak. He panted, too weak to move, for several minutes before he dealt with the bladder issue, but even that felt so good that he wondered why people didn't do it for sport.

When he returned, Firenze was absent, but a wooden bowl of water and a flannel waited for him on the stump. No soap. He scrubbed his face and hands with cold water and felt better for it. He cleaned his teeth with the flannel, too. He wished he could wash his hair, but it didn't matter as much to him here as it would anywhere else.

Firenze appeared through the trees; the sight of him and the memory of falling asleep against his blazing body heated Severus's cheeks. Firenze smiled drowsily -- his chest hair was sprinkled with water, so he must have been washing in the spring -- and asked, "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," Severus said stiffly. "I do have duties to attend to, however, and I must --"

"But --" said Firenze.

"I'm afraid there's a stack of essays that can't --"

"A cup of tea, first thing --"

"Tea," said Severus. "Of course, one cup -- "

"I have a supply here," said Firenze, fetching a canister from the crotch of a tree. "I thought, if I were to have guests -- You might boil the water by magic."

Somehow Firenze fumbled as he handed it to Severus and had to catch tin and hands together, and somehow, finding themselves hand-in-hand again on this strange morning they had to draw each other closer and Severus found himself encircled by the strong arms and pressed tightly, ecstatically, against Firenze's chest with its glittering droplets. The large, warm hands traveled up and down his back, kneading his neck and briefly cupping his arse.

"Oh," murmured Firenze against the top of his head, "you darling."

"I think not," Severus replied, his voice muffled against Firenze's sternum.

Firenze drew back, smiling brilliantly into Severus's eyes.

"Come here," he said, and led him to his usual seat, where he stood, and where Firenze kissed him -- tenderly, deeply, skillfully, dizzyingly -- for a good half hour, until Severus felt he might dissolve into a puddle of bliss.

When his knees got weak, he swayed a bit and Firenze laughed happily.

"The tea, now, I think," he said. Severus sat on the stump and Firenze rooted around at the base of a tree, finally producing a full kettle, which Severus heated with his wand.

~oo00oo~

Somewhat less red ink than usual was splashed around when he finally got to the essays. He was still stunned by the events of the evening and morning, and kept drifting into daydreams. This was the very first time the object of his fantasy had chosen him as well. He was amazed at his feeling of well-being and completion, given that they had only kissed. He almost couldn't imagine going farther; surely that would invite disappointment? The good thing about Onanism was that no one need know if it didn't go well, and there was always tomorrow. He redirected his attention to the parchment before him.

The immediate issue was rendered moot by a summons that night from the Dark Lord. It took a fair deal of creative lying and obsequiousness to pacify him and when Severus arrived back in his chambers six hours later he was in no condition to visit anyone. He took a sleeping draught and fell into bed.

After that, it was several days before Severus could get free of detentions, meetings and revisions. Nor did they contact each other. It seemed that, by common understanding, they would conduct the whole of their -- whatever it was -- in Firenze's classroom. It was certainly safer that way; he could not imagine what the Dark Lord would think of a relationship between a wizard and a centaur, and surely Firenze was aware of that as well.

Thursday night he released two surprised Hufflepuffs from detention after only forty minutes. He showered and put on fresh clothes, cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and walked briskly to Firenze's door. His heart was hammering as he slowly pushed it open.

The clearing was empty. Severus stepped inside and locked and warded the door to be on the safe side. He looked nervously around, although he knew that this was not the actual Forbidden Forest with its giant spiders.

"Severus," was Firenze's glad exclamation as he appeared through the trees. "It is 'Severus' now, isn't it?" Severus let out the breath he had been holding; something had, then, altered the nature of their relationship. He nodded, a bit dazed by Firenze's size as he came close. Then more so, as Firenze bent low to catch Severus's lips with his own. Severus reached up to thread his fingers through the blond hair, breathing in Firenze's scent of forest and man.

"Come, and have refreshment," said Firenze, lacing his fingers with Severus's and leading him farther into the forest.

"How big is this room?" Severus asked.

"As big as I want it to be," he answered. "Professor Dumbledore has outdone himself. It was his own idea, to make me comfortable, but I didn't expect it to be so extensive."

"Hm," said Severus. "He's very talented."

They took a narrow path through the forest, Severus walking ahead of Firenze but guided by a hand on his shoulder, until the trees thinned and they came to a brook.

"I get my water from a spring over there," said Firenze, "but this is a good place to sit or wash. Here is a seat." He gestured toward a log that had been stripped of bark and planed flat. Severus looked at him questioningly. "I prepared it for you."

Severus sat on the log. Firenze brought him a wooden cup of water, then settled next to him on knees and hocks. They looked into the susurrating brook with its medallions of light. It was like sitting before a fire and talking, as he had done at Lucius' manor long ago.

"Did you have a -- " Severus was not sure of the right word. " -- a partner, back in the Forest?"

"Yes," said Firenze. "It was Bane. I believe you know him." Severus clenched his teeth. "I was very young when we became mates. He has a strong character, and I think that my own did not develop well because of that. I had to agree with him in every way and live as he wished. As I grew into my own ideas, we came into conflict. For instance, I do not see the relations between centaurs and other races as he does."

"No, surely not."

"It may be," Firenze mused, "that I am here because I had to break away from Bane."

Severus laughed bitterly.

"As I am here because of the Dark Lord."

"Then we are in the same box," said Firenze, fondly. He reached over and laid a hand on Severus's neck. They sat peaceably for some time, Severus anticipating the coming embraces, but in no hurry. He rested.

After some time, Firenze said, "Late at night, it grows cold by the water. Shall we go back to the clearing?"

Severus nodded and they rose, shaking out their stiff legs.

The path was so dark on the way back that Severus might as well have closed his eyes, but Firenze guided him with soft touches that spoke of pleasures to come.

The clearing was lighter, under the face of a waning moon. Severus was eager now. Grasping Firenze's hands, he pulled him toward his hollow and pressed him down. Firenze laughed as he settled in, then opened his arms. Severus stepped forward and stood between Firenze's kneeling knees, while Firenze seemed to caress and kiss him everywhere at once, nuzzling under his jaw, pressing small kisses to his face, his hands traveling urgently up and down his body, exclaiming at each discovery.

"Oh," he said, inhaling the fragrance behind Severus's ear.

"Oh," he said, running his hand up the inside of Severus's thigh.

"Oh," he said, working his finger into Severus's shirt and stroking his navel.

He pushed Severus's robes off and fiddled awkwardly with his buttons. "Let me," Severus said, and whispered a quick undressing charm. He stood naked in the moonlight.

Firenze leaned back to see him. "You are beautiful." He touched him lightly from shoulder to knee, his fingers like soft brushes, limning each line. Then with a sharp intake of breath, Firenze pulled him close and his mouth traveled from neck to shoulder to nipple, where it fixed tightly. Severus groaned and pressed his chest forward. The large hands kneaded Severus' bottom.

Taking control, Severus pulled Firenze's head back, drinking in his handsome face before kissing him wetly, firmly, greedily, with more abandon than he had ever kissed before.

He rubbed his cock sweetly against the soft horse flesh below Firenze's waist. He tweaked his nipples and licked the shell of his ear. Firenze moaned and his four legs stirred, as if running.

When Firenze fondled his aching cock Severus thought he might come right there.

"Wait," he managed to say.

"I can't. I can't."

Then Firenze leaned down, backing up a bit to get his mouth in the right place, holding Severus steady with his hands. The feeling of wet heat and suction, the swirling tongue -- Severus clung to Firenze to keep himself from falling. The need to thrust was tremendous.

"Ah -- oh, oh -- God -- OH --." The noises he made were embarrassing but irrepressible. His hips jerked as Firenze licked and sucked, groaning with excitement.

"Oh, OH God, fuck --"

And then strong arms supported him as he gave one wild cry and came into Firenze's hot, willing mouth. It seemed to go on forever, wave after wave in the darkness, as Firenze milked him with tongue and lips.

When the last shudder had passed, he was hanging over Firenze's shoulder. The firm body beneath him was trembling. Severus slithered down and rested his face against Firenze's neck.

"I meant for you to be first," he said.

"It doesn't matter who is first," said Firenze in a shaky voice. "It was -- It could not have been better."

It seemed natural for Severus to sit down between Firenze's knees and lean against his palomino body. Firenze ran his hands over Severus's legs wonderingly.

"You seem delicate to me," he said softly.

"I haven't been killed yet," Severus replied. "We'll see."

He was warm and cozy. Firenze's chin rested on top of his head, his hands crossed over Severus's chest. Severus closed his eyes and fell asleep for a few minutes.

"Are you awake?" Firenze asked as he stirred.

"Yes, sorry, I --"

"No," said Firenze. "I was resting, too."

"I still --"

"Yes, please."

Severus started with more kisses. He nuzzled Firenze's chest, following the light hair down to where the smooth skin gave way to fur. Firenze moved restlessly. Severus bent to suck his nipples. He gasped, cradling Severus' head.

Kissing and licking down from Firenze's chest, Severus moved to the flat of his horse's back, leaning against the warmth. When he reached down and caressed the horse's belly with both hands, Firenze rose with an exclamation, suddenly gigantic, treading his hooves on the ground. Severus's arms rose, too, and he rested his forehead on Firenze's side, petting and kneading the silky, tan fur.

He moved around to those beautiful buttocks and ran his hands over them with a feeling of ecstatic license. He rubbed his nose over the muscled curves, then bit the flesh lightly.

"Harder," Firenze called, and took a step backward. He bit again and Firenze moaned. He covered the shivering skin with sharp little bites. Firenze's arms trembled in the air, his hands clenching, and he whisked his tail over Severus's prick like a long, smooth lick, bringing it to a stand.

Firenze's own cock had emerged from its sheath, pink and glistening, thrusting uncontrollably into the air. Severus' breath quickened.

He ducked under Firenze's belly, knelt and placed both hands around the shiny wetness, like someone about to pole vault. Firenze gasped as he squeezed.

"Wait," he said. "I need to --" His hand appeared, gesturing Severus out from under. When Severus emerged, Firenze walked them to a nearby tree. Giving a little jump with his front legs, he hooked them over a low, horizontal branch.

Of course, centaurs climax with their front legs off the ground.

"Now, please, Severus."

Confronted with Firenze's enormous cock at face level, he stepped forward and cupped the massive balls in his hands, rolling them in their sacks. Firenze's breathing stuttered and sped and Severus' prick gave a jump. He pressed and squeezed them, bringing a series of gasps from above.

The pointed tip was just higher than his nose. Placing his hands on the shaft again, he brought it downward and licked it experimentally. The taste was salty and musky, delicious. Severus opened as wide as he could and caressed Firenze's cock with his lips and tongue.

"Oh. Oh, Chiron!"

It was so big and so hard. Severus licked up and down the shaft, sucked at the tip, rubbed his face against its burning smoothness in a rapture of lust. Firenze cried out and worked his hips. Severus's own responded, jerking into the air as he sucked and stroked two-handed up and down the shaft.

Firenze thrust faster. Severus braced himself and rode it, lips and tongue and hands working together. He felt the nearness of Firenze's orgasm as a roiling tension in his groin.

"Watch -- I'm --"

Severus responded by sucking and stroking harder. With a roar, Firenze thrust once more then held, quivering, as jets of come filled and overflowed Severus' mouth. Severus gave a wild jerk and shot as well, groaning helplessly and clinging to the cock in his hands. A few short thrusts brought new waves of salty come into Severus' mouth and a second, almost painful, spasm.

Then he let go and slumped to the ground, chest covered in creamy white. Firenze's panting slowed. A moment later, he stepped carefully to the ground, circled the prone Severus, laid down and gathered the wet, sticky man, lightly breaded with bits of leaves, into his arms.

~oo00oo~

The tender shoots of the fiddle head fern, tossed with sorrel and hazelnuts, turned out to be a tasty and filling. Severus was still taking a pass on grubs, although Firenze said they were delicious. Out of consideration for their cultural differences, Firenze did not mention frogs and snails at all. For his part, Firenze had come to like apricot preserves, which they ate on bannocks for breakfast, and Earl Grey tea.

They fell into an easy routine of weekends together and sometimes a weekday night snatched from their other duties. There was freedom, for Severus, in their containment; they rarely spoke outside the room, and therefore everything inside could be trusted not disturb him at school. Severus expected that anything so powerful would fail, but he found Firenze an attractive lover at every opportunity.

"You know this can never last," Severus said bleakly on a Saturday twilight by the brook. Firenze was standing and washing in the cold water, as he liked, and then Severus would fill the wooden bowl and heat it, as he liked.

Firenze waded to shore, stones clacking under his hooves, and shook the drops off his shoulders. He took the bowl and filled it, in the middle where the water was deepest.

"A fish may marry a bird, but where would they live?" he said, setting the bowl down. "That is a goblin saying."

"There is no place," said Severus.

"No," said Firenze, leaning down to caress Severus's head. "And I must tell you; when the students go home at the end of the year, I will leave too. There is a centaur herd in Yorkshire, and I would beg acceptance of them."

Severus pulled his head away.

"Go, then," he said.

"Not like this, Severus," said Firenze. "Not so ill-done. Take the time -- it is only April -- and think how we might do well."

Severus did not speak to him again that night, although he laid down and slept by his side in the hollow.

In the end, he could not do it. The last time he saw Firenze was across the room at the Leaving Feast, a group of first year girls placing wreaths of flowers around his neck. He stayed in his chambers for several days after that, then left to see to Spinners End and a possible leak in the basement.

It was the end of July when he returned. He had had no communication from Firenze, and indeed, how would he? Centaurs were illiterate.

It was not as hard as he had feared. He had known from the start that it was an interlude, that there could be so much abandon only in the shadow of separation.

On the last Saturday night of the summer holidays, he showered and put on clean clothes. The prospect of the returning students made the halls seem even emptier and his boots echoed -- clip, clip, clip, clip -- on the stones. He passed through blocks of cold moonlight on his way to Firenze's classroom.

He pushed the door open slowly, knowing what he would see but not how he would feel. It was just an empty classroom. Silver light fell on the chairs and the window sills, on a bit of abandoned chalk in the blackboard tray -- no trees, no spring, no leaf-lined bed. Surely no one had been there since Firenze, and that is how he knew that the thing waiting on the desk was meant for him.

It was a solitary wooden bowl.

 

 

A/N: The humorous wanking scene in this story was strongly influenced by a similar, non-humorous scene in Yukio Mishima's Confessions of a Mask.


End file.
